


A Token of Gratitude

by zuotian



Category: Naruto
Genre: Developing Friendships, Diplomacy, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuotian/pseuds/zuotian
Summary: Sakura visits Sunagakure to check in on one of her clinics. The Kazekage is surprisingly forthcoming.





	A Token of Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> something i pulled out of my ass. i like imagining random characters in random scenarios. mainly an excuse to wax poetic about suna and comment on shinobi defense planning. vaguely romantic but mostly platonic. gaara is awkward. sakura is used to awkward boys. 
> 
> i wanted to make this longer but need a lesson in brevity. 2k is pretty brief, for me.

In most other countries, the surrounding environment behaved symbiotically with man, offering a minimum of game, shelter, water, or transport. In the Land of Wind, the desert reigned supreme, unsympathetic and callous; it offered nothing but scraggly reptiles, leafless shrubs, and spiny cacti. Tents were erected behind protective rock walls or, if one was lucky, inside of the rare cave. Traveling through the country was always a bit of a culture shock and survival test, one which Sakura Haruno had yet to accustom despite her many visits. 

 

Sunagakure neither jutted out nor descended from the landscape but rather melded seamlessly into the wavering horizon, especially from afar. No looming gates or towering architecture heralded its presence. One had to squeeze through the proceeding canyon to finally discern its homogenous adobe structures from the circumvent basin of cliffs which protected the village. 

 

Invited by the Kazekage himself, Sakura was ushered into the village without fanfare by a group of chuunin dispatched to personally welcome her. The populace had a quiet, withdrawn quality; villagers spoke seldom and when they did it was with little inflection. Sakura was thankful for this, as it didn’t require any pointless small talk on her part. The other Leaf shinobi who frequented Sunagakure - namely Naruto and Lee - were never quite comfortable amidst the stony Sand nin, but Sakura had enough tacit discretion to leave her own brash habits behind in Konohagakure. 

 

She’d timed her arrival to coincide with Sunagakure’s post-siesta flurry of activity. The desert was too hot in the afternoon to accomplish much work, and everyone in the village, shinobi and civilian alike, would slip indoors to escape the heat for a couple hours, until emerging from various restaurants, cafes, and apartment buildings to resume the workday on schedule. Presently they flooded the narrow, dusty streets, wrapped in breathable cloths to conceal themselves from the daytime sun and nighttime winds. Most filtered past Sakura and her concierge with nary a glance - the Sand nin were utilitarian and straightforward in nature, as survival in the desert required strict adherence to protocol. They went about their business single-mindedly, intolerant of fuss or pomp, and easily acclimated extraneous variables such as the random Leaf nin into their routine. 

 

All this being said, Sakura proceeded through Suna unbothered, whereas in Konoha it was likely she would’ve been held up by a number ridiculous interruptions in the same amount of time. The chuunin escorted her to a room in the shinobi’s dormitory at the center of the village and promptly left her alone.

 

She dropped her pack on the small bed, disturbing motes of sand which made themselves known in the beams of sunlight that filtered in through her tiny window. Sakura brushed these aside and fell backward across the mattress. Harried from her arduous journey across the desert, she’d rest for just a moment, she decided, and her eyes fell shut. 

 

Inadvertently falling into a dead sleep, she snapped awake at the presence of someone in her room. Forgetting that she was a guest in a foreign country, she grasped a kunai from her thigh pouch, prepared to retaliate, but her throw was aborted by the sound of rushing sand.

 

Sakura blinked, immediately climbing to her feet; the kunai clattered to the floor. “K-kazekage-sama!”

 

Gaara’s preemptive wall of sand retreated into the gourd at his back. “Sakura-san,” he greeted amicably. 

 

“I’m - I’m sorry,” she stammered, then remembered to bow. 

 

Gaara waved her off; the motion appeared forced, given his general disposition, though perhaps that was simply a bias of Sakura’s; he’d truly lightened up in recent years since the war, or so she’d hear from Naruto and Lee - she only met the Kazekage on business and lacked a more personal understanding of his character. “It’s quite alright,” he dismissed. “I should not have arrived unannounced. I was running late, is all, and worried you had been waiting.” 

 

She gestured at the vaguely Sakura-shaped depression on the bed. “I, err, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

 

The gourd stirred as Gaara shrugged. “I’m sure you were tired from your travels. Besides,” his face twisted into a strangely emotive sneer, “it’s not your fault. My meeting lasted longer than expected.” 

 

“Oh.” Sakura paused, unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to ask for details.

 

Thankfully, the Kazekage continued before it got awkward. “The council is reluctant to allocate more funds to your clinic.” 

 

Her clinic, dedicated to the mental needs of children, was the reason behind Sakura’s visit. One of many she’d founded over the course of her adult medical career, Suna’s clinic in particular had proven to be majorly successful. 

 

“I thought things were going great,” Sakura said with a frown to match Gaara’s; they were both astute in politics and business, chagrined when their (completely reasonable)  measures were not approved. 

 

“That’s the problem,” Gaara sighed. “The clinic is hoping to expand its operations. Naturally, it will be expensive.” 

 

“You cannot put a  _ price _ on children’s health,” Sakura said. 

 

Gaara’s lips quirked in what might’ve been a fleeting smile, and Sakura’s posture relaxed at the sight of it; she unclenched her hands, unaware that she’d fisted them. “I agree,” the Kazekage said. “Traditionally, most of our spending goes toward defense. The council is set in its ways. My arguments for a more...holistic budget have fallen on deaf ears.” 

 

Sakura scoffed. “Of course.” 

 

“They are suspicious of our newfound peace,” Gaara sagely explained. “Most of the council has lived through three wars. They suspect there will be a fifth one eventually.” 

 

“Kakashi-sensei won’t let that happen,” Sakura promised.  _ Neither will you _ , she declined to add. 

 

“I do not doubt the current Hokage,” Gaara said. “Or, for that matter, his successor.” 

 

Sakura grinned at the mention of Naruto. “Good.” 

 

“Anyway,” Gaara continued, again oddly blase. “I am glad your arrival has coincided with this...complication. The council is in recess. I hoped you would join me and provide your expert testimony when we reconvene. Unless, of course, you need more rest.”

 

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Honestly.” The impromptu nap had given Sakura enough energy to stand on her feet. She could suffer through a diplomatic meeting, if it meant that her clinic would thrive; that was why she was in Suna, after all. “I would be honored, Kazekage-sama.” 

 

“Great,” Gaara said. “And, please, call me Gaara. We are friends, Sakura-san, are we not?” 

 

His tone held a beguiling quality to it. Was he...joking? Sakura laughed awkwardly. “Yeah - uh, yes, we are, Gaara-san.” 

 

“I will leave you to get ready.” Sand swirled around him as he prepared to depart - Sakura stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. 

 

Gaara glanced down at the touch. Proverbially kicking herself, she snatched her hand back and ran it through her hair to play off the sudden contact. “You don’t need to go, just to come back in a few minutes,” she told him. “I won’t take long.” Even if she didn’t already shower quickly, Suna’s water ration system would’ve forced her to.

 

“Very well, then.” The sand settled and Gaara neatly sat on the bed.

 

Sakura stretched behind him to retrieve an extra outfit from her pack, then abdicated to the small en suite bathroom. Trying not to think of the Kazekage waiting on the other side of the door, she shucked her clothes off and stepped into the shower, rinsed the sand and sweat, tacky with sleep, off of her body, washed her hair, and toweled off in less than five minutes. 

 

Gaara was sitting in the same position she’d left him when she stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a red tunic and black capris. She forewent her kunai pouch in a show of respect to the council, though she slipped a blade inside of her belt, and hid another inside the strap of her right sandal. 

 

She looked up to find Gaara staring at her. “I can...go unarmed,” she hesitantly suggested. 

 

“You are a kunoichi,” Gaara said. “I would not expect you to enter any situation unequipped. Nor would the council - as long as they don’t see it.” 

 

“Ah. Good.” 

 

He stood. “I have something for you.” 

 

“What?” Sakura chastised herself and plastered on a smile. “I mean - thank you. But.” Her brow furrowed. “What is it?” 

 

Gaara procured a bundle of cloth from the inside of his robe. With a flick of his wrists, it unfurled to the floor - a simple, lightweight wrap similar to what she’d seen other Sand nin wear, dyed pink, she thought, specifically to her tastes. 

 

“You will get sunburnt otherwise,” Gaara explained, straight to the point. “And the nights are deceptively cold. This is a versatile garment.” Sakura was familiar with Suna’s weather, though she did not tell Gaara this as it looked like he had more to say. “You’ve also become something of a regular figure here. I thought it best you looked the part. It will improve the council’s opinion of you, at least.” 

 

Sakura fingered the wrap, let it slide over her palms. The ends were embroidered with small cherry blossom motifs. Her eyes flicked up to Gaara’s, and she noticed for the first time that their irises were nearly identical in color. 

 

Gaara deposited the cloth into her hands and their skin brushed. His skin felt slightly abrasive, colored impossibly pale despite Suna’s oppressive heat. It was the sand armor, Sakura deduced, which protected him from the UV rays. 

 

“Thank you,” she said, holding the cloth to her chest. “It...means a lot.”

 

“Consider it a token of gratitude,” Gaara said. “I have never forgotten what you did for my brother, so long ago. And now, to help Suna’s youth.... It isn’t much, but - “ 

 

“Gaara,” Sakura interjected, doing away with any title or honorific. “I love it.” 

 

He offered her another half-smile. “I am glad.” 

 

Sakura threw the wrap over her shoulders and knotted it at the base of her throat. Gaara stared at her, and she blanched. “Does it - does it not look good?” 

 

Gaara shook his head. “It is not meant to be a cape.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

Gaara’s hands hovered in the space between them. “May I…?” 

 

“Sure,” Sakura assented. 

 

The Kazekage unfastened her “cape.” “Hold your arms out, please.” Sakura obliged. He expertly looped the wrap over her shoulders so that it laid across her torso and cascaded down her biceps, then stepped behind her to tie it off. She wondered if he’d aided Temari with this before, or perhaps some clumsy little girl; Naruto and Lee reported that he visited Suna’s orphanages often to socialize with the kids in his own dry, endearing manner. 

 

The wrap was slack enough to allow Sakura to pull the remaining fabric over her head. Afterward, she put a hand on her hip. “Better?” 

 

“Yes,” Gaara said. “The council will be pleased.” 

 

Sakura lifted her brow. “And what’s your opinion?” 

 

Gaara averted his gaze. “You look...fine.” 

 

Sakura smirked. Gaara wasn’t too difficult to read once one knew what to look for. A man of few words, it was the idiosyncrasies in his relatively monotonous body language that betrayed his inner thoughts. But these small admissions were intentional; he only relinquished his impassive mask in the presence of those whom he trusted. His actions were not purposely ambiguous - rather, it was all the emotion he was capable of emitting. Thankfully, Sakura had a fair share of experience with emotionally constipated men. 

 

Gaara stepped back, giving her a wide berth, and cleared his throat before changing the subject. “Do you have the documents I sent you?” 

 

“Yep.” Sakura dug through her pack and pulled out a stack of papers crumpled from travel. She reviewed them back in Konoha and again whilst trekking through the desert, huddled in her wind-buffeted tent. They contained statistics and figures pertaining to studies performed at the clinic which measured policy and program effectiveness. All the charts followed an upward course and survey results were favorable across the board. 

 

“Let us go, then, if you are ready,” Gaara said. 

 

“I’m ready,” Sakura confirmed. 

 

The gourd at Gaara’s back regurgitated a torrent of sand that scattered across the floor. The Kazekage held out his hand. Sakura laced their fingers together - calloused tan within course pale - and closed her eyes. 

 


End file.
